


Business & Pleasure

by mcwidow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Banter, Biting, Bounty Hunter, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Enemies to Lovers, Exhibitionism, F/M, Flirting, France (Country), French Characters, French Kissing, Guns, Handcuffs, Las Vegas, Locked In, Masturbation, Naked Cuddling, Not Wearing Underwear, Nudity, Oral Sex, Party, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sex, Sexual Content, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Venezia | Venice, Weapons, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwidow/pseuds/mcwidow
Summary: Widowmaker is interrupted mid-mission by McCree. He wants her in an Overwatch jail cell, but she wants something else entirely...





	1. Chapter 1

            Amélie began to settle into place, staring intensely through her headgear’s infra-sight. The notorious assassin’s target would be coming into view shortly, and she was excited to finally get her mission over with. She was perched atop a lofty skyscraper, sweltering under the unrelenting Las Vegas sun within a luxurious rooftop patio. Amélie hated spending bright, warm days working so she was more than eager to just cross out her target and vamoose. “Any minute now,” she mumbled impatiently to herself in French.

            “Didn’t take you for much of a gambler,” said a familiar voice from behind her. Amélie’s visor retracted and she glanced over her shoulder to see Jesse McCree, renowned bounty hunter, pointing his revolver at her. “So what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” McCree cocked his gun and grinned triumphantly.

            “Bonjour, cowboy.” Amélie cooed. “What makes you sink I don’t gamble?” With that, Amélie whipped her rifle towards McCree but a well-timed flashbang allowed him to reach out and grab it. McCree yanked the gun out of her grasp and crushed the barrel with his mechanical hand, rendering it useless. Still aiming his Peacekeeper at his blue-skinned captive, the former Overwatch agent cast the remains of Widowmaker’s gun aside.

            “Nice try, Lacroix, but yer gonna have to be faster than that.” McCree opened his free hand and gestured for her to hand over the rest of her weapons. Amélie slowly removed her gauntlet, forfeiting her venom mines and grappling hook. She unclasped her infra-sight visor and handed that over as well, all the while maintaining aggressive eye contact with her western adversary. “What about that?” he asked, glancing at the small pouch strapped to her right thigh.

            “Ammunition.” Amélie answered with full poker face.

            “Hand it over.”

            “No.”

            “Now.”

            “Take it yourself.” Widowmaker’s painted lips curled into a flirtatious smirk.

            “Alright, hands behind your head,” McCree ordered after a cautious pause. Amélie, still smiling, did as she was told. The gruff gunslinger approached her, his spurs clinking with each step, until he was close enough to plant the tip of his revolver dead center against her chest. She felt the cold metal on her almost-as-cold skin between her breasts and started to arch her back coquettishly. McCree took notice but his eyes were still locked with hers, determined not to let her pull a fast one. “Turn around” he said to break the silence. Amélie did as she was told, staring out into the sunny Las Vegas skyline as she did so.

            McCree hadn’t even touched anything yet but Amélie could almost feel his hand going between her legs. Suddenly she felt his fingertips stroke her inner thigh while he felt around for her ammo bag’s buckles. With a click, each strap was unclasped one after the other and the bag fell to the floor.

            “Pick it up and toss it over. Nice and easy, now.”

            “Nice…” Amélie said quietly as she put her legs together and bent over at the waist. “…and easy.” She looked slyly over her shoulder and caught the outlaw red-handed checking her out. She lingered for a moment before picking up the bag, standing up straight, and throwing it to McCree’s feet. “What next, cowboy?”

            “Next we’re gonna go visit some old friends. I reckon they might not be too happy to see you though, on account of you being a turncoat assassin and all.”

            “Americans, always straight to business.”

            “It may be business but finally bringin’ you to justice’ll be a pleasure.” McCree responded with a smile.

            “It would appear business and pleasure are intertwined in a place like zis.” Amélie said of the casino city. “Which would you have of me?”

            “You can keep flirtin’, darlin’. Ain’t gonna get you outta this one.” McCree backed up, still fixing his Peacekeeper on her, and reached for the roof access door. He gave its handle it a pull, and another, and suddenly realized he’d miscalculated something.

            “Ze door is locked, isn’t it?”

            “Yeahp.” McCree grumbled. It must have locked behind him when he was concentrated on getting the drop on her.

            “Wonderful.” Amélie said sarcastically in French. She approached one of the patio longue chairs and laid back on it as if she was sunbathing.

            “What’re you doin’?”

            “If I’m going to be trapped up here, I might as well get comfortable.” The assassin reclined and closed her eyes as if she wasn’t currently being apprehended by a ponchoed vigilante.

            “Well if you’re tryin’ to work on your tan, I gotta ask how that works considerin’ you’re purple from head to toe."

            “Tsk, tsk, cowboy. How do you know what my body looks like from head to toe? Have you been spying on me? I did not know you were a – how do you say – peeping tom.”

            “That’s some accusation coming from a spider with x-ray goggles.”

            “I bet you’re thinking about me getting undressed right now,” Amélie teased, running her hands over her body. She playfully tugged the hem of her plunging neckline here and there, commanding McCree’s attention. “Aren’t you, cowboy?”

            “Don’t you do that.” McCree stammered, less than halfheartedly protesting. Amélie slipped her shoulders out of her suit followed by her breasts, exposing herself to him. The honorable gunslinger averted his eyes before remembering she was still his captive and he was going to have to put his eyes right back. “Stop before you get any ideas.”

            “What ideas?” Amélie asked as she got up off the lounge chair and continued peeling her suit off. The top half of her thin, glossy outfit was bunched up at her waist and McCree couldn’t take his eyes of her breasts. “Zere are no ideas, I am simply trying to get a tan – like you said.” Amélie faced away from McCree again and hooked her thumbs into her suit at her waist, bending over and slowly stripping it off. He watched Amélie’s bare ass come into view as she stepped out of her suit and boots and immediately felt a bulge growing in his lap.

            Amélie looked longingly at McCree over her shoulder again, subtly arching her back and sticking out her perfect butt to entice him. She noticed her desperado friend holstering his weapon at long last, and she also noticed his erection though his dusty jeans. The naked assassin returned to the same longue chair and laid down on her front, letting a flustered McCree continue ogling her. She looked up at him from where she rested. “Come sit with me, Jesse.”

            That was it, she’d finally used his name. She was practically hypnotizing him at that point, and hearing his name was just the trigger to get him to lower his guard. McCree was secretly happy to oblige so he had a seat in the chair next to hers and admired the spectacular curve of her body.

            “How shall we pass ze time?” Amélie reached up and put her hand in his lap, barely touching his erection before he grabbed her wrist and moved it away. She smiled wickedly at his resistance, but the stiffness of his cock gave her some assurance. Amélie decided she’d touch herself if she couldn’t touch him, so she rolled over onto her side and ran her hand down the front of her body. McCree watched her palm slide over her breast, her fingertip daintily lingering on her nipple until it continued down her bare skin. Amélie’s hand was soon between her closed legs, gently touching herself.

            The normally cool, calm McCree was starting to sweat. “Let’s not get worked up, spider. Cool yer jets.” Amélie wouldn’t listen, instead rolling all the way onto her back. She slowly lifted and spread her legs, closed her eyes, and moaned softly as she massaged her pussy more vigorously. The cowboy sighed with desire before leaning back in his seat and getting comfortable for the little show she was putting on.

            Amélie opened her eyes and glanced to his lap, noticing the outline of his hard cock trying to bust out of his pants. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, gracefully rising out of her reclined lounge chair and standing before him. She took a step closer, looking down at him from where she stood between his sprawled legs. McCree was eye-level with her hips, so close that he could see how wet she was.

            “I could ask you the same thing.”

            “Don’t you want to touch me, cowboy?”

            “No, uh… no… thanks…” McCree trailed off as he struggled to speak. He couldn’t stop staring, his resistance was all but spent. Meanwhile, Amélie was turning away from him and presenting her bare butt to him like it was his for the taking.

            “Not at all?” she asked, bending over a little for him. McCree eyed her perfect ass swaying provocatively less than a foot from his face and just wanted to reach out and grab it.

            Amélie began to slowly lower herself until her round ass was nestled in McCree’s lap. She could feel his thick, hard cock under her and bit her lip with anticipation. It seemed her cowboy was better endowed than she predicted. Amélie sat comfortably in his lap, his tattered pants the only barrier between her pussy and his cock, and started grinding into him. She ran her hands along the cowhide leather chaps covering his thighs as she lap danced until her hand was in range of his holster.

            With one swift movement, Amélie drew McCree’s gun and spun so she was straddling him. The bewildered bounty hunter quite suddenly had the barrel of his own revolver pressed to his temple, ready to put a bullet in his brain. Amélie paused, pulling back the hammer of the pistol, and she stared into her prey’s frightened eyes before they shut tight. She smiled devilishly and pulled the trigger.

            The next thing she heard was the disappointing click of firing an unloaded weapon. The empty chamber revolved and McCree opened his eyes, grinning smugly. Amélie looked surprised for a moment – and only for a moment – before the sexual tension peaked and the two aggressively locked lips. She tossed his gun aside and they grabbed each other, kissing passionately. McCree’s trademark hat flipped off his head and rolled away while Amélie hastily grabbed at his poncho and took it off. He pulled away his chest armor while she fumbled for his BAMF belt buckle, quickly undoing his pants and at last freeing his stiff cock.

            Amélie didn’t hesitate to grab his hefty manhood and touch its tip to her soaking wet pussy. As she took him inside her she stopped kissing him and her jaw gradually dropped. “Oh my god.” she gasped in French while her tight pussy was slowly filled with cock. McCree was reaching behind her, grabbing two handfuls of assassin ass at last. He felt Amélie’s thighs tighten around his waist as his cock reached its deepest point inside her.

            She stared into his eyes and held his head in her hands, feeling the scruff on his jaw line. McCree tilted his head back to return her gaze, ignoring the fact that she could probably snap his neck at any second. If she was feeling even half as good as he was feeling, he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about. Amélie closed her eyes and leaned in, resuming their kissing while McCree held her hips and started guiding her up and down in his lap.

            The gunslinger’s deft hands traversed Amélie’s body while they fucked, exploring every part of her. She in turn was enjoying the feel of his muscled chest and shoulders, breaking her lips from his so she could kiss his neck. McCree grabbed her butt again, this time squeezing it more forcefully, prompting her to gently bite his neck. She started bouncing in his lap faster, savoring the feeling of his stiff cock filling her.

            McCree gave Amélie a swift spank and she blurted out a loud, pleasurable moan. He did it again, and she squealed erotically. Her breathing intensified while he slapped her pert ass again and again, causing her to react in all sorts of wonderful, horny ways. McCree figured if she liked being spanked, she’d also like what he was about to do next.

            He quickly stood up while lifting Amélie off of him, sliding his cock out of her and ushering her to the lounge chair she displayed herself on earlier. He manhandled her a bit, bending her over and spanking her powerfully enough to leave a purple handprint. The riled up cowboy pushed her into the lounge chair on her back and descended on her, pinning her hands down. His cock reentered Amélie and her uncontrolled, sexual moaning echoed into the open sky above them.

            Her legs were held up and spread wide by his arms while her hands were interlocked with his and pinned to the chair she laid on. She was completely at his mercy, unable to move while he pumped his cock in and out of her. Widowmaker liked to take charge, but Amélie secretly wanted to be dominated. Finally, she’d found a man brave enough to try.

            McCree fucked her harder and harder and her moaning escalated to screams of excited sensation, coursing through her body like electricity. Her eyes rolled up and her mouth opened wide while she felt the rush of an orgasm blossom and overtake her whole body. Her whole body trembled as she started to cum, gasping for air against the unrelenting thrusting of the cowboy subduing her.

            Amélie said something McCree couldn’t understand, too focused on his rock-hard dick to realize she was speaking in French. “Cum inside me,” she finally thought to say in English, and she suddenly felt him tense up. The stoic cowboy grunted and let himself orgasm, quickly filling her pussy with his warm cum. His thrusts slowed as he did so and the two started to wind down while cum dripped from Amélie’s satiated pussy.

            Exhausted, McCree lowered his head to Amélie’s chest and delicately kissed her breasts. His muscles relaxed, and so did hers, and eventually he pulled out of her and got up. If the lounge chair was wide enough for two he might’ve laid there next to her, but he also remembered what he was there to do. After a moment to catch his breath, he knew it was still up to him to catch Widowmaker.

            “Well…” he said as he drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned himself up. “That happened.” McCree steadily retrieved his gun, not exactly sure how to proceed, but turned to find the lounge chair empty. Amélie was already standing by the edge of the roof, wearing her gauntlet she’d given up earlier. Its venom mine wrist launcher was aimed directly at the shirtless cowboy.

            “Thank you for the rodeo, cowboy.” she said slyly, still breathing heavily. “I’m glad you forgot to load your gun.”

            “I didn’t forget, sweetheart. I unloaded it when you were busy takin’ yer clothes off. Figured you were gonna pull a move like that.”

            “And how many bullets are in it now, chérie?” Amélie teased, knowing he hadn’t had the chance to reload.

            “You could poison me, spider, but that’d mean what just happened would never happen again.” McCree confidently holstered his weapon and stood up straight. “I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have it that way.”

            “So you are a gambling man.” Amélie purred. Just when it looked like she was about to attack, she repositioned her arm to fire her grappling hook at an adjacent building instead of her venom mine. “Au revoir, Jesse.” With that, the naked assassin leapt off the building and swung away, leaving McCree and the rest of her clothes alone on the roof. With that, she disappeared from his sight and left him in amazement.


	2. Living Dangerously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree runs into Widowmaker again, this time while both are undercover at a luxurious party in Venice. Things get complicated when he learns she plans to kill the man he must interrogate but the two of them still manage to have a good time...

            “Dang it,” Jesse McCree grunted as he passed a mirror and caught sight of his reflection. The bounty hunter was in the midst of undertaking a particularly difficult mission: formal wear. “I swear, if this tie ain’t gonna cooperate…” He unlooped his tie in frustration and attempted to get it right for a third time. People walking by scoffed at him as he leaned closer to the mirror and grumbled as he frantically tried to get himself in order.

            McCree was out of his element, and he wasn’t too pleased. He was tracking a particularly dangerous criminal by the name of Kaspar Rottmann when he was led to sneak into this posh soiree in Venice. The famed vigilante wasn’t fond of ditching his cowboy duds but he had a need to blend in, though his unkempt facial hair and metal arm worked to his detriment.

            “Don’t sweat it, just walk in there and get eyes on Rottmann,” he whispered to himself in the mirror. “Get it done and you’re outta here.” McCree took a deep breath, passed through the main doors, and found himself in a crowd of well-dressed and wealthy people. He marched onwards, his feet growing uncomfortable in his not-yet-broken-in shoes, and couldn’t have felt more out of place. He caught sight of sneering eyes left and right and realized he probably had something of a time limit before somebody realized he wasn’t invited.

           

            McCree waded through the congregation of humans and omnics before finally finding Rottmann sitting with his entourage at a table. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he thought as he identified who was sitting directly next to his target. Her topaz eyes locked with McCree’s from across the room and she couldn’t help but smile a bit.

            “Would you excuse me, Kaspar?” Amélie Lacroix began. The portly gangster nodded and eyed her hungrily as she stood up and slinked away from the table. McCree started walking in her general direction and it wasn’t long before they crossed paths.

            “Well, well.” McCree said with a grin. “Look who it is.”

            “Bonjour, Jesse.” Widowmaker said slyly. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

            “I think I clean up pretty nice, if I do say so myself.”

            “Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy.” Amélie hissed playfully. She took a step closer to him, close enough that he could smell her expensive perfume, and started undoing his tie. “You’re crooked.” McCree felt a little silly with her retying his tie for him in the middle of such a fancy event but he certainly enjoyed how close she was to him. He hadn’t forgotten a single detail of their last encounter, after all.

            “ _I’m_ crooked?” McCree said with a chuckle. “Least I don’t mingle with scum like Rottmann.”

            “Don’t worry, chérie.” Amélie pulled his tie snuggly around his neck, almost too snuggly. “He won’t be mingling with anyone for much longer.”

            “I take it he’s already caught in your web?”

            “Of course.”

            “Well, that might be a bit of a problem.” the gunslinger warned. “I need some information outta him and I reckon that’ll be a little difficult if he’s dead.”

            “Hmm, I see.” Amélie said, picking up a glass of wine from a server’s tray as he shuffled by. She took a sip, staring into McCree’s eyes. “Zen tonight we are adversaries, cowboy.”

            “It’d appear so. Although as far as enemies go, I can’t say I’ve had one prettier than you.”

            “Aw, cowboy. I would blush if I could.”

            McCree offered his hand to her and, when she took it, he raised it above her head and slowly turned her around. Amélie delightedly twirled and modeled her outfit for McCree, who was in awe of her long, flowing black gown. He paid special attention to its plunging backlessness that went just about as low as it could go without being indecent. The right side of the dress also had a slit that went tantalizingly high, baring enough of her smooth thigh to show off her leg tattoo. The look was truly complete with her three-inch stilettos that made her almost as tall as her western acquaintance. “What a stunner.” he said aloud as he tasted her with his eyes.

            “You do know it’s rude to stare, no?” she teased as his gaze lingered.

            “Of course, of course.” McCree playfully retorted. “You’re not the kinda girl who much likes being stared at, do you?” he said sarcastically as Amélie casually licked her lips, not looking away from him for even a second. “Now then, back to business. I can’t say I care much whether Rottmann’s left breathin’ or not but I do need to ask him some questions. Think you can hold off on killin’ him until after I’m done?”

            “Oh, Jesse. Zose questions you seek to ask are precisely why I must kill him.”

            “Then we’re at somethin’ of an impasse, ain’t we?”

            “Gabriel would be most disappointed if Rottmann were to reveal any secrets.”

            “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. You and I both know Gabe ain’t hard to disappoint.” McCree took Amélie’s hand yet again and pulled her a little closer to him. “What do you say you lose track of Rottmann and grab a drink with me instead? What’s the worst ol’ bonehead will do? Slap on the wrist?”

            “Don’t be foolish. I’m a professional… and I always make my kill.”

            “Right, yeah. Gotta keep up that whole cold-blooded killer thing, huh?” McCree leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on her cool blue cheek. “I’ll be at the bar if you change your mind,” he whispered into her ear. He finally let go of her hand and took off, not looking back, because he knew he didn’t have to.

            Amélie watched him walk away in his suit, which fit his muscular body exceptionally well despite not being tailored to him in the slightest. She bit her lip, fantasizing for a moment, but steeled herself to resume her mission.

 

            Halfway back to Rottmann’s table, however, Amélie paused and took another long sip of her wine. There was something about McCree’s confidence that she couldn’t ignore. He could’ve tried to put himself between her and her target, he could’ve threatened her, he could’ve done any number of things to stop her from killing Rottmann… but he didn’t. McCree simply made her an offer he was so certain she couldn’t turn down. Part of her wanted to make the kill purely to spite him, but another part of her – the much more lustful part of her – could not resist. What’s more was that McCree was right; Gabriel Reyes _would_ simply give her a slap on the wrist for failing. It wouldn’t be a significant loss and there was no reason she couldn’t just lie to him about it.

            “I can’t believe I’m doing zis,” she muttered to herself in French as she finished off her wine and made way to the bar.

            McCree heard the clicking of heels drawing closer and smirked knowingly. He turned around to see the notorious Widowmaker approaching him, looking almost annoyed at herself for caving in. He didn’t say a word as she rested against the counter next to him, instead waiting for her to speak. “Are you getting me a drink or not?” she asked impatiently.

 

            Two drink orders later and the two were back to flirting. “Thought you were a sniper,” he said as he’d already finished his whisky. “Why get all dolled up if you can just shoot the guy from a mile away?”

            “You can’t kill a man from far away if he’s expecting it,” she said while nursing her champagne. “Sometimes you have to get close.”

            “And how close is that?” he asked before Amélie started to lean towards him. She whispered into his ear, mirroring how he’d whispered to her a moment ago:

            “ _Very_ close.” Her thigh escaped the slit of her dress and positioned itself between McCree’s legs against his own thighs, sending anticipatory chills through his body. He retaliated by putting his hand on the middle of her back, just at the abdomen of her spider tattoo, and pulled her even closer to him. His hand then descended along her spine until his fingertips slipped into her dress, just barely touching her ass. This was McCree’s way of seeing if she was wearing underwear, and he wasn’t surprised to discover she wasn’t.

            “Mind zat hand of yours,” she said as she felt him getting frisky. The warmth of his masculine hand was electrifying but she couldn’t let him advance so easily. “You wouldn’t want to lose it, would you?”

            “Trust me, sweetheart. Some things would be worth losing a hand over.” McCree nodded and gestured to his mechanical arm. “And I should know.”

            “Always living dangerously, aren’t you, Jesse?”

            “I get the feelin’ you like that about me.”

            “And what gives you that impression?”

            As if she’d challenged him, McCree removed his hand from her back and reached into the side slit of her dress. His fingers found her pantiless pussy before she could react and they somehow homed in on her clit. Her mouth dropped open and she gasped quietly as he touched her most sensitive area, but only for a few seconds before his hand retreated. “Just a feelin’,” he reiterated as he took note of the wetness now coating his fingertips. Amélie bit her lip again and looked around but it seemed that no one near the bustling bar noticed. She wasn’t used to being teased like that, and it only made her want him more.

            Amélie felt the need to surprise him in return and was about to reach out and grab his manhood through his trousers when a far less attractive, rather abrasive voice called out to her. “Victoria!” Rottmann had found her, referring to her by the fake name she’d used to get close to him. “I was wondering where you’d ran off to.”

            “My apologies, compadre.” McCree cut in, again putting his hand on Amélie’s lower back. “Victoria here was just telling me about you… Kaspar, ain’t it?”

            “Why, yes,” Rottmann spoke confusedly. “And you are?”

            “Scott Mary, pleased to make your acquaintance.” McCree reached out with his prosthetic arm and gave Rottmann a handshake firm enough to crack a bowling ball. The white-collar criminal winced but otherwise maintained his miserable composure. Amélie was also trying to keep her cool, suddenly worried McCree would compromise her mission. “Did my wife mention I’ve been meanin’ to have a sit down with you? I got somethin’ of a business proposition you’ll want to be hearin’ about.”

            “Your wife?” the flabbergasted Rottmann whined.

            “Your _wife?!_ ” Amélie thought, unable to believe her cowboy friend’s gumption.

            “Yessir, and what a lovely wife she is. Wouldn’t you agree?” Amélie was shocked to feel McCree’s hand descending beneath the black fabric of her dress yet again, this time grabbing a handful of her ass. He gave her butt a good squeeze but their backs were to the bar counter and no one but the two of them knew what was going on. Amélie kept a straight face – more or less – while McCree’s furtive touching started to majorly arouse her.

            “No, I’m afraid she failed to mention you,” Rottmann answered while delicately rubbing his aching hand.

            “Aw, well we’re all here now, huh? Tell you what, Casper…”

            “ _Kaspar_.” he angrily corrected.

            “I happen to know some Russian ballerinas, see. And Victoria loves ballet, don’t you, darlin?” McCree’s hand was now stealthily reaching low enough to feel Amélie’s soaking wet pussy lips. She trembled while his fingertips worked their magic, exhaling deeply before composing herself enough to answer.

            “Mmm, yes.” she said while longingly looking into her ‘husband’s’ eyes. “Feels so good,” she continued as she gave in to his touch. She couldn’t believe how much his little stunt was turning her on.

            “It does feel good to watch ballet, don’t it?” McCree quickly added. “Anyways, I promised my dear Victoria I’d introduce her to some of them ballerinas and we want to catch ‘em before they leave, but I’ll come lookin’ for you after that.”

            “I look forward to it,” Rottmann said unenthusiastically. McCree and Amélie were both skilled enough to tell he was lying and had no plans to meet with either of them.

            “Alright, we’ll be seein’ you soon then.” McCree said, feigning enough friendliness to utterly repel Rottmann. The frustrated, despicable man shot one more scowl at ‘Victoria’ before trudging away and leaving the couple behind. McCree finally retracted his hand from down the back of Amélie’s dress, giving her ass one more squeeze as he did so, and he simply looked at her like the smug gambler he was.

            “I can’t…” Amélie growled, shaking her head. “I cannot believe you…”

            “Believe it or not, sweetheart, that’s how you play the game.”

            “You realize he’s going to leave now and he’ll soon be in his heavily guarded estate? He’s getting away.” she huffed, raising her voice but not enough for bystanders to take notice. She was trying to sound aggravated but she was still thinking about his skillful hand’s effect on her.

            “Yes, but I know where to find him later.”

            “How could you possibly know zat?”

            “Considerin’ I just broke a bunch of bones in his hand, I’m willin’ to bet he’ll be headin’ to the nearest hospital.”

            “What? But he-”

            “These fat cat mobster-types are too proud to be seen hurtin’. He’ll be at a hospital and it’ll only be easier there for me to get him to talk.”

            Amélie opened her small clutch and retrieved a nondescript device she held to her ear. She listened in on Rottmann’s hacked security comms and, sure enough, he was en route to the nearest public hospital.

            “Am I right, or what?” McCree said arrogantly. “He’ll be there for at least a few hours with barely any defen-”

            With a loud smacking sound, Amélie slapped the gunslinger across his scruffy face. Nearby partygoers suddenly turned their attention to the handsome couple, and McCree was at last genuinely surprised. Before anyone said anything, however, Amélie leaned in and planted her lips on his. She kissed him deeply and they embraced each other passionately, making everyone else uncomfortable enough to go back to ignoring them.

 

            McCree and Amélie held hands as they rushed to find someplace they could be alone. “Staircase,” she said as they went. The party was confined to the first floor of the sprawling mansion and she knew there weren’t any security cameras there. McCree broke open the door to the stairs with his powerful cybernetic arm and the two of them slipped into the empty stairwell without being seen. The sharply dressed bounty hunter bent the door handle out of shape behind them, ensuring no one would walk in and interrupt anything.

            Amélie started up the stairs, looking coquettishly over her shoulder and swaying her hips for her companion’s enjoyment. McCree began to follow her up the lavish marble staircase, his eyes darting between her alluring eyes and her perfectly round ass. He came up behind her as she walked and took the back of her dress in his hand, pulling it down and revealing her bare butt. Amélie could feel his eyes on her exposed ass and stopped halfway up the stairs to bend over for him. McCree looked up at her from a few steps behind, feeling his cock harden almost instantly when he got a glimpse of her pussy. She ever so slowly stood up straight again, fixing her dress, and continued up the stairs with her cowboy in tow.

            “Take that pretty little thing off.” McCree told her when they reached the spacious first landing. Amélie set her purse down before gradually taking her dress off, letting the light black fabric cascade down her body and bunch up around her wickedly high heels. McCree’s gaze fixated on her nude form while he slowly paced around her. She stood casually and relaxed while he enjoyed the view, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it to the floor. “You _do_ like being looked at, don’t you, darlin?”

            Amélie nodded and moaned an “mhm” while McCree lightly caressed her breasts, as if inspecting them. Amélie enjoyed the rare feeling of her heart rate increasing quite a bit and was still amazed an American scoundrel was the one responsible.

            “Why’s that?” he asked while he circled behind her again. When she didn’t answer he gave her an unexpected spank and she gasped provocatively. ”Go on, tell me.” he insisted.

            “When you watch me undress...” she began while her hand gravitated to her loins. “…it makes me so wet.” McCree felt his cock twinge with her words while she automatically started touching herself. He came around her front again and pulled her hand away from her pussy only to replace it with his own, coaxing a squeal out of her. He massaged her sensitive clit while grabbing the back of her neck with his metal hand and pulling her in for a kiss. Amélie ran her hands all over him and held him tightly to her while they kissed passionately, barely muffling her moans of ecstasy. She couldn’t quite believe McCree was so adept with his hands but the wetness dripping down her inner thighs was proof enough.

            Eventually their lips disconnected and McCree wrapped his good hand around her throat, lightly choking her. “Are you gonna do as I say?” Amélie nodded eagerly but McCree wanted words. He asked her again, choking her a little tighter but allowing her enough breath to speak:

            “Yes.”

            “Tell me why.”

            “Because I want you to fuck me.” Amélie said with a vulnerability in her voice McCree hadn’t heard much of.

            “That’s right,” the cowboy crooned. He let go of her throat and ushered her to the next steps going up from the landing. He bent her over at the waist and pressed her palms to the hard marble steps in front of her, offering herself to him while he kneeled behind her.

            The next thing Amélie felt was McCree’s face against the backs of her legs, almost tickling her with his unkempt beard. He kissed her gently, his lips slowly ascending up her thighs until they reached her smooth, shaved pussy. McCree buried his face in her while she was bent over the stairs, tasting her while her moans echoed in the cavernous stairwell. Amélie felt her knees buckle as he ate her out, exploring her pussy and ass with his tongue. McCree’s hands kneaded her bare butt as he did so, jiggling and spanking it while he did his good work.

            When he thought she’d had enough, he pulled his face away and watched her quake in her stilettos with lust. The cowboy licked his lips while he grabbed another handful of her ass, spreading it so he could see how incredibly wet she was for him, and gave her another spank. Amélie could hear him unzipping his pants and swayed her hips impatiently while he got his rock-hard dick out.

            The tip of his cock barely touched her pussy lips as he teased her, making her wait for it. “Fuck me,” she begged as she bent over farther for him. “Fuck me, Jesse. Please,” she moaned. McCree almost couldn’t believe it. One of the world’s deadliest assassins was putty in his hands, begging desperately for his cock. “Please, Jesse, I want to feel you inside me.”

            Finally, McCree’s dick delved deep into Amélie, making her scream out again in pleasure. His thick cock hurt her tight pussy as it entered but she absolutely loved how it felt. He spanked her again while he began to thrust back and forth, watching her gorgeous ass bounce with each movement. His cock glided smoothly as deep as it’d go inside her and she felt it sending waves of stimulation all throughout her body.

            “Oh my fucking god,” the assassin shouted in French. The typically monolingual American fucking her didn’t have a clue what she was saying but he couldn’t care less. Anything she said in French was sexy by default and he knew the reason she wasn’t speaking English was because she couldn’t concentrate on anything but his dick. McCree savored every moan, every gasp, and her seductive French voice was music to his ears.

            He suddenly pulled out, watching Amélie’s glorious ass ripple from one more spank, and guided her to the nearest wall. He pushed her up against it, pinning both of her hands to the granite above her head with just one of his. His other, metallic hand led his throbbing cock back inside her waiting pussy before returning to her dainty throat. He squeezed gently while his forceful fucking resumed and the French words kept rolling on out of her.

            Amélie was completely at his mercy and it drove her insane with desire. Her hands were his, her neck was his. As she stood there with her breasts pressed against the wall, her pussy utterly filled with his hefty cock, her eyes rolled up and she felt her ravaged body reaching its breaking point. Her orgasm was already close at hand, and she knew it’d be one to reckoned with.

            McCree decided to let go of her wrists, relocating his hand to Amélie’s sopping wet pussy. The instant his fingertips connected with her clit she screamed unrelentingly with passion, shocking even McCree while he kept touching her. Within seconds she felt a rush of precious warmth radiate through her body, starting between her legs but spreading to reach every part of her. She cried out while her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, unable to stand on her own had she not been propped up by McCree and his massive erection.

            His thrusting finally slowed just as she felt her pussy fill up with his hot load of cum. He grunted softly while pulling out of her and she felt more cum land across her bubble butt, dripping down over the violet handprints his spanks had left there.

            McCree took a couple of steps back and admired what he’d done to her. She stayed leaning up against the wall, catching her breath while cum leaked down her thighs from her sore pussy. She eventually turned and rushed to McCree, kissing him gleefully all over his lips, face, and neck. She held his head almost lovingly as she smothered him with affection. “You know what?” the smooth talker started. “You don’t look as blue right now.”

            It was at that moment Widowmaker did yet another thing McCree didn’t expect: she laughed. The gruff vigilante hadn’t heard a giggle out of her since before Talon did what they did to her. He wondered, if only for a moment, if there was any hope of her redemption. “Nah, couldn’t be,” he thought to himself. “…could it?”

            “Jesse McCree,” Amélie purred through her exhausted breathing. They kissed once more before she dropped down and licked his still-hard cock clean. “Our first time as a married couple,” she said sardonically between kissing and licking his shaft.

            “Oh, Victoria,” he joked back. “You have no idea how glad I am you happened to be at this party.”

            “Oh,… what was it, somezing Mary?”

            “Scott Mary. From _Day of Anger_ , 1966.”

            “Of course you named yourself after a cowboy from a hundred year old movie no one remembers but you.”

            “First thing I could think of on the fly.”

            “You’re such a fool,” she said with a smile. “But you’re a fool with a nice cock.” Amélie whispered before giving the sensitive tip of his dick one last kiss. She stood up and McCree passed her his handkerchief so she could clean herself up.

            “Welp, it’s been a pleasure spendin’ some time with you again,” said the wily bounty hunter while he picked up Amélie’s dress. She held out her hand but instead of forking it over he started carefully folding it up.

            “Give me my dress,” she demanded.

            “I would, but you’d just put it on and head after our new friend Casper again.” McCree smiled devilishly. “I’m thinkin’ it’ll slow you down a bit if I hang onto it.”

            “You wouldn’t dare.”

            “Darin’s what I do, darlin. You seemed content enough jumping off a roof buck-naked the last time we met… and you’re one of them sneaky types, I’m sure you’ll get outta here without any trouble.”

            “I despise you,” she mumbled unconvincingly.

            “Will you despise me less if I let you borrow my jacket?” McCree headed for the exit, unbending the brass door handle he’d mangled earlier. “You can give it back to me the next time I see you. Oh, and I’ll tell Rottmann you said ‘howdy.’”

            “Cowboy,” she called as McCree was halfway out the door. He took a step back and gave her his attention one last time, noting a softness in the way she spoke to him. “I’m curious as to when we might cross paths again.”

            “Soon,” he replied endearingly. “See you around, sweetheart.” With the sound of the door being closed behind him, Amélie was left alone. She was still riding the high of her overwhelming orgasm when she picked up McCree’s suit jacket, smelling it as she put it on. She closed her eyes and breathed deep of his smoky aroma, holding the oversized jacket tightly around her body. It wasn’t quite long enough to cover her bare pussy and her cum-drenched ass so she’d have to get creative about leaving the building without being seen. Amélie started up the stairs and away from the party, her thin heels clicking on the marble floor as she went.

            Despite her predicament, however, she couldn’t get McCree out of her mind. She wondered if she was feeling… feelings. Her emotions were chemically stifled but something about that troublesome ex-Overwatch ruffian made her feel truly alive once more.


	3. House Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amélie Lacroix returns home to Château Guillard to find a certain gunslinger is already there waiting for her.

            There were many elaborate estates in the South of France, but few were quieter than old Château Guillard. The somber, muted colors of the isolated mansion aptly conveyed the state of the place: unattended and lonesome. The widow of former Overwatch agent Gerard Lacroix may have recently taken up residence in the antique building but she hadn’t quite settled in yet. Amélie’s duties as Widowmaker, infamous assassin of Talon, led her all around the world and she didn’t often have down time to return home.

            But on one such occasion of vacation time, Amélie made her way back to her late husband’s home for some much-needed rest and relaxation. A Talon stealth submarine bubbled up from the depths surrounding the Château’s little islet and allowed Amélie to step ashore. The vessel disappeared just as inconspicuously as it had arrived and she was left alone with her creaky wooden manor. That is, until she opened her front door and discovered she was not alone after all.

            Amélie, the elite agent that she was, had employed an old spy trick in an effort to keep tabs on her new home: Before she would leave the mansion, she would place a strand of silk in her doorframe that would fall away if the door was opened. If she returned home and the silk had already fallen to the floor, it meant someone had opened the door while she was away.

            The spider looked down and found the silk was indeed out of place, meaning someone had infiltrated her hideaway. Amélie readied her rifle, the Widow’s Kiss, and scanned the room around her, looking and listening for any other signs of intrusion. She switched on her infra-sight headgear, letting it click into position over her eyes, and gazed straight through the dusty walls around her. The eight glowing red lenses of her reconnaissance tech revealed the bright crimson outline of someone lounging in her living room. Her blue lips slowly perked into a smile when she started to recognize the trespasser’s outline.

            “Oh, cowboy,” she whispered to herself as she identified Jesse McCree sitting with his feet up on her coffee table. Amélie’s hand casually moved between her legs and she gently touched herself for a moment through her glossy bodysuit. After all, she knew why McCree was visiting. It was only a matter of time before he showed up, as she saw it, but she couldn’t say his arrival was unwelcome. She’d frequently fantasized about him after their last couple of rendezvous and even then, as she watched him through her infra-sight, she couldn’t help but picture his thick, throbbing cock waiting for her.

            Amélie finally deactivated her visor and quickly took it off, hanging it by the front door before stealthily heading up to her bedroom to change. With her skintight suit cast aside she silently rummaged through her belongings until she retrieved a thin, delicate robe. She wrapped the loose garment around her naked body in one swift motion while she found a matching pair of white pumps. She carried the sexy heels with her as she descended to the living room, slipping her dainty, ballerina soles into them just before making her entrance.

            “Bonjour, cowboy.” Amélie said with a smile as she stepped into the room. She stood seductively in the doorway and relished the expression on McCree’s face when he got a look at her. “Get your feet off my table.”

            “My, my,” the gruff cowboy crooned as he obediently lifted his boots off the coffee table and planted them on the hard wood floor, his spurs clinking as he smiled back at his gracious host. He also removed his hat in a most gentlemanly fashion before he continued. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

            “Come to get your jacket?” she asked, referring to how he’d left her the last time they’d serendipitously bumped into each other.

            “I was in the neighborhood.” McCree looked at her with hunger in his eyes, a hunger all too familiar to Amélie. “Thought I’d swing by.”

            “Care for a drink?” she asked while subtly licking her lips.

            “Sure,” McCree said with a smirk. “I’ll have a beer.” With that, Amélie slinked across the room and through a different doorway. She was fully aware McCree’s gaze would be fixed on her as she went so she put a little extra allure into each step. The gunslinger, thirsty in more ways than one, leaned forward in his seat to watch her mosey by. He paid special attention to how daringly short her gossamer robe was as it hugged her every curve.

 

            Amélie returned a moment later with two glasses of red wine and handed one to her seated guest, who reluctantly accepted it. “Here’s your beer.” she said with playful sarcasm and McCree delicately took its stem as if he’d never had a glass of wine in his life. She clinked her glass against his with a “tchin-tchin,” never breaking eye contact with her rugged companion, and settled in the loveseat opposite him.

            “Cheers.” McCree replied before they took their first sips. Amélie slowly crossed her legs as McCree finished his first swig, deliberately giving him a glimpse between her immaculate thighs. McCree felt the first stirring of his manhood and knew it wouldn’t be long before she had him absolutely rock hard.

            “You’re very trusting to drink somezing I poured in anozer room.” Amélie said as she took another sip from her own wine. “You’re so certain it contains no venom?”

            “I know the smell of yer venom well enough by now, chérie.” The vigilante said with tongue in cheek. In actuality he hadn’t thought twice about the possibility – a slip up he wasn’t about to admit – but it seemed his blue-skinned host still wanted to play cat and mouse.

            “’Chérie?’ So ze American speaks French now.” Amélie cooed. “I’m flattered you would learn just for me.”

            “Well, you know what they say… know your enemy.” McCree said with a smile.

            “Oui, of course. And what wonderful enemies we are.” Amélie declared as she matched his devilish grin with one of her own.

            “You _are_  my favorite, after all.”

            “Très bien. Favorite enough zat you would not arrest me?”

            At that, the former Overwatch agent reached into his back pocket, dug out a heavy pair of old metal handcuffs, and tossed them onto the loveseat next to his sultry friend. Their metal links clinked as they bounced on the cushion where they landed. “’Fraid not.”

            “I see, Jesse. Zis is why you are truly here, no?”

            “Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but I’m actually here on official business. Gotta bring you in.” Another gulp of wine and McCree added “No rush though, we can enjoy our drinks before you put those on.”

            “I knew zis day would come.” Amélie said flirtatiously as she feigned distress. She picked up the handcuffs with her fingertips, briefly examined them, and let them fall back to the loveseat.

            “Now don’t fret, sweetheart. I’ll give you some time to enjoy yer last moments of freedom.”

            “How generous.” she purred seductively as she slowly rose from her seat. She sipped more of her wine as she made moves towards a set of authentic French doors across the room and let them swing open freely. The glass-paned doors parted and revealed a balcony with a view over the vast lake surrounding the manor, but even the vista’s undeniable beauty could not sway McCree’s attention.

            His eyes, of course, were zeroed in on Amélie’s backside. The fresh afternoon air flowed into the room as the doors glided open and the light material of her dainty robe floated up excitedly, giving him his first brief glimpse at that stellar ass of hers.

            Amélie felt the warm breeze infiltrate her thin garment and touch every part of her body. She knew she was giving the gunslinger something to look at, teasing him as she felt the light fabric flutter up around her impossibly well-proportioned hips. She kept walking, her pristine white pumps clicking on the floor as she went, until she could lean against the balcony railing and peer out into the scenery.

            The cowboy kept gawking for a moment longer and reveled in the fact that he’d yet to see Amélie ever wear any sort of underwear. He took his wine to the balcony and stood next to the pacified assassin, breathing in the open air before turning his head and glancing at her. She was already staring back at him, her eyes eagerly delving into his. It was at that moment McCree began to more confidently believe she was developing actual feelings for him. “Either that or she’s just French,” he thought.

            He waited to see if she would say something at his expense, already thinking of something snarky he might counter with, but she didn’t speak a word. She simply continued watching him until he knew what she wanted. McCree leaned in to kiss Amélie and she leaned in to meet him in turn, their lips locking as they kissed slowly and deeply. Her lips were cold at first, as usual, but a few seconds of making out was all it took to warm her up and McCree’s hand reached out to hold hers. They tasted the red wine on each other’s lips and felt the swirling wind envelop them as their hearts beat faster and their desires grew stronger.

            The next thing McCree knew, Amélie was taking his tattered leather glove off. She let it drop before unbuckling his gun belt for him as well. McCree lowered his holstered Peacemaker to the floor while she removed his crimson serape and allowed it to drift back inside aloft on a gentle gust, where it bunched up next to the coffee table.

            Amélie, still holding her guest’s biological hand, led him back indoors and they both put down their recently emptied glasses. She looked at him promiscuously as she picked up his pair of handcuffs and returned them to him. At first the vigilante wasn’t certain if she meant for him to put them on himself, but his doubts were dissolved when she obediently presented her wrists to him. “I’m yours.” she whispered, her words sending a pulse of exhilaration through them both. A moment later and the irons were fixed around her wrists, binding her to his control.

            Amélie was secretly almost as afraid as she was aroused. This was a significant moment of trust for her; if he wasn’t joking and it was indeed McCree’s goal to apprehend her then she’d just let him do it without even putting up a fight. She half expected a team of Overwatch agents to suddenly roll in at that very moment and cart her away. It could have been a most foolish mistake on her part to fall for such a handsome rogue, but her instincts were correct and McCree’s intentions were honest: he wanted her, but only in the best way. A way she was aching to enjoy.

            With another kiss, the honorable gunslinger took Amélie’s shoulders and turned her around. She felt a quick smack on her firm butt, signaling her to march. He’d turned her towards the stairs and she knew that meant the bedroom was their next destination. So on she walked with her lover close behind. Not too close, however, that he could not savor the view of her amazing ass as it ascended step by glorious step.

            Once in the bedroom, McCree led her by her shackles to the bed, where he sat down in front of her. He patted his thigh, beckoning her to sit on his lap, but Amélie had interpreted his gesture differently. She bent over and laid across his lap instead, presenting herself to him in a way that only meant one thing. The cool, blue vixen could tell he understood what she wanted when she could feel his growing erection react beneath her.

            And so McCree placed his right hand on the back of her thigh, gradually sliding it up until it grasped a handful of her butt. He lifted the presumably weightless fabric of her robe up around her waist, baring her perfect, round ass, and Amélie moaned softly when he gave it one more squeeze.

            It was the last moment of tenderness her rear end would receive for a while before the outlaw’s strong hand came down upon it. Amélie yelped innocently with the first slap and found herself instantly more aroused. The second spank followed on her opposite cheek and McCree loved how wonderful her juicy ass looked when struck. She felt the sting of the third spank and by that point the pain had her utterly craving another. He spanked her beautiful bare butt again and again, her pleasurable moans parallel with the rattling of the chain between her wrists. Amélie’s ass was soon adorned with darkened mauve handprints, the mark that she in that moment belonged to McCree and no one else.

            When they’d both had enough, the cowboy’s fingertips explored for a moment between her legs and found her to be dripping wet. He guided Amélie up to stand in front of him again so he could undo her robe’s ties and allow it to fall open, baring her perky breasts and hairless pussy to him. He ducked forward and started kissing her toned abdomen, his lips quickly descending as low as he could reach from where he was sitting.

            Each kiss grew closer to her pussy until he sprang up, grabbed her slender body, and lifted it off the ground. He turned and tossed her effortlessly onto the comfy bed where she landed on her back and instinctively spread her legs wide. Her manacled hands went between her thighs and massaged her clit for McCree while she watched him undress. Everything from his tactical body armor to his worn chaps to his heavy boots was left in a heap on the floor before he reached out to manhandle her once again.

            The virile, red-blooded American yanked her to the edge of the bed and dove headfirst between her legs, his tongue almost immediately connecting with her g-spot. Amélie gasped as he ate her out, involuntarily closing her thighs around his head. McCree felt her sterling white heels rest against his back while she clutched the bed sheets for dear life and moaned loudly into the vaulted ceiling. As he had done before, the gunslinger proved he knew his way around a woman’s anatomy. It felt so good to Amélie that she forgot to breathe for moment with her jaw dropped wide open.

            McCree gripped Amélie’s thighs tight as she ran her fingers through his thick brown hair. She exclaimed something indiscernible in French as her pupils curled up into her head and her breathing hastened dramatically. Eventually, however, the man’s talents reached their limits and he had to come up for air before gazing down at what he’d wrought. He noted how Amélie’s chest heaved with each breath, her breasts swaying slightly whenever she took a deep breath in.

            The former Overwatch agent bent over and placed his lips on Amélie’s gorgeous breasts, gently biting and kissing her nipples in a way she never even knew she liked. His lips traversed her flawless skin to her collarbones, then further to her neck, then further still to her wine-stained lips. He kissed her passionately, muffling her labored moans with his tongue in her mouth. She was so caught up in their making out that she was surprised to feel the tip of his stiff cock touch her waiting pussy, teasing her for a moment before slowly entering her.

            Amélie felt herself fill up with McCree’s warm, vascular dick as it penetrated her. She hadn’t been fucked since the last time she was with her western companion so she was nice and tight for his throbbing manhood. She broke from his kiss and her jaw dropped before she grabbed at him with her bound hands, holding him where his neck ended and his strong, scruffy jaw began. She pulled him back down to kiss her lips again, their tongues mingling while he began thrusting in and out of her.

            McCree loved how wet she was for him. He used to look at the infamous Widowmaker with disdain, but looking at her while she experienced the ecstasy of his touch was something he never would’ve predicted. The heroic vigilante felt a certain sense of triumph as he broke through her icy exterior and revealed the sensual woman beneath, something he was fairly certain only he was able to achieve.

            Amélie, meanwhile, could barely muster a thought at all as she huffed and puffed with his every thrust. She was squeezing his neck so tightly she was almost choking him but that didn’t dissuade him at all while he fucked her relentlessly. She took in every visceral sensation as she basked in the moment: his unrefined smokey scent, the prickling of his chest hair against her smooth body, the roughness of his hands… it all served to make her feel as if she was his. She wanted to belong to him in her entirety, give all of herself to him.

            The gunslinger eventually removed his lips from hers, standing up straight and allowing her moans to echo again into the old room. He took hold of the chain between her wrists with his mechanical hand and pulled her grip away from his neck, allowing him to take a full breath and focus himself a bit. Still holding her by the handcuffs, he pulled her wrists up and pinned them down to the bed above her head while his other hand moved in to play with her pussy. Amélie knew what was about to happen so she wrapped her legs around his body, her heels scratching his back a bit, and braced herself.

            She felt McCree’s fingertips reach her clit and promptly screamed with uncontrollable exuberance. The skilled marksman massaged her most sensitive place with impressive precision while his hard cock went deep inside her, all the while restraining her dainty hands above her head. Not only was the physical sensation of his lovemaking beyond what she could withstand but she also knew he was in complete control of her and that was what sent her over the edge. She howled with bliss as she felt herself cum, signaling to McCree it was time for him to release as well. With a quiet grunt from him Amélie could feel his warm cum well up inside her as both of them tensed up with formidable orgasms.

            They both relished in the fierce rush of pleasurable endorphins through their bodies while McCree’s hot cum oozed into Amélie’s trembling pussy. The cowboy leaned down again to fervently kiss his elated lover’s lips before their joint climax had finished and she continued to purr delightedly for him. He withdrew his manhood and let himself drop onto the soft bed next to her as she turned onto her side and looked him in the eyes. His eyelids fluttered exhaustedly over his dark, russet pupils while she gazed longingly back at him with her unnaturally yellow ones.

            Their breathing slowed as McCree grinned and rolled onto his back, fully prepared for a good post-fuck nap. Amélie, however, was still in a heightened state of enamorment when she got up and lowered her face towards his still-erect cock. She delicately licked his throbbing shaft clean, hungrily lapping up his sticky cum while continuing to moan seductively for his amusement. McCree opened his eyes and propped his head up long enough to see her gorgeous naked body on all fours, attending to him with such thorough, lustful devotion.

            When Amélie was done and McCree’s dick finally began to rest, she laid down on top of his muscular body and gently kissed his neck while he dozed. Her affection for him only increased with each time they fucked and she was becoming a little obsessed with how good he made her feel. She went on to gently kiss his closed eyelids while he held her butt with both hands and gave her a playful spank. She mewed happily while they cuddled naked together, the sun at last making its descent towards the horizon. The two tired sharpshooters soon drifted off to sleep, their bodies and minds sated after a long afternoon of indulgence.

 

            Amélie must’ve rolled off of her lover while she napped because she was lying on her stomach next to him when she awoke a few hours later. He was already awake, friskily running his hand along her back, ass, and thighs. McCree gave her fantastic naked butt a good squeeze before he leaned in and kissed it tenderly. Amélie lifted her hips a little off the bed fawningly, offering herself to him as he went lower and lower until he’d transitioned into casually eating her out from behind.

            She swayed her hips and made little joyful noises while he tasted her, but he pulled away just as they were getting going. McCree gave her a quick, conclusive spank before aggressively flipping her onto her back and smiling down at her. “What’s for dinner, darlin’?” he asked as he finally got around to unlocking her handcuffs for her.

            “You tease.” Amélie murmured as she felt herself aching for his tongue on her again. She went from rubbing her newly freed wrists to rubbing her clit absentmindedly while she thought how to answer. “You weren’t planning on cooking, were you?”

            “Can’t say I’m much for rustlin’ up a meal. But I got legs, and France’s got restaurants, doesn’it?”

            “Oui, it does...” Amélie rolled over and held him close while she took a deep breath in. “But right now I’m only hungry for somezing else,” she cooed while tracing her polished fingernail across his broad chest.

            “I reckon I might know what yer talkin’ about but we’ve got all night for that, sweetheart. I dunno about _you_  but a man’s gotta eat to keep up his stamina an’ all that.”

            “Hmph, very well.” Amélie conceded. “You’ve earned somezing to eat after all ze work today.”

            “I’m guessin’ they don’t deliver to places in the middle of a lake, so I’ll head out and pick somethin’ up. I noticed when I came in through the back that you had a little boat out there, I suppose I’ll use that to get across the lake?” McCree asked courteously while he got up and started to get dressed.

            “Oui, take zat to the dock by ze… wait…” Amélie trailed off. “You came in zrough ze back door?”

            “Well, yeah.” McCree replied confusedly. “Was that not alright?”

            “No, no…” Amélie assured him, already lost in thought. She only knew to use her infra-sight to discover McCree earlier that day because the silk left at her _front_  door was tripped. But if McCree had entered the mansion by sneaking through the _back_  door, it could only mean someone else had broken in. Amélie thought for a moment longer and suddenly had an idea of who that might’ve been…

 

            Meanwhile, on the mainland shores beyond the lake, a young woman with purple streaks in her hair swiped through several recordings on a hologram in her palm. “Gotcha,” she said aloud victoriously before she disappeared into thin air with a flicker of neon pink light.


End file.
